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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431829">Lilies for the Lady</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissoffools/pseuds/kissoffools'>kissoffools</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Falsettos - Lapine/Finn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Closeted Character, First Meetings, Infidelity, M/M, Meet-Cute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:29:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431829</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissoffools/pseuds/kissoffools</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Whizzer Brown isn't used to crushing on married men. He especially isn't used to helping married men buy flowers for their wives shortly before falling for them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Whizzer Brown/Marvin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Juletide 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lilies for the Lady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shudder/gifts">shudder</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whizzer doesn’t mean to start crushing on a married man.</p><p>Well, it’s not like it’s the first time a married man catches his eye. Plenty of the men Whizzer comes across out and about are married, after all. At least that’s the case when he’s north of 14th Street. And these married men… they’re just so beautifully obtuse. Wearing their khaki pants and polo shirts, completely unaware how delicious they look and how fun it would be to get a little unbuttoned. So all he does is look a little -- what’s the harm in that?  </p><p>The point is, he might like to look, but he doesn’t <i>fixate</i>. He doesn’t daydream about them past their small interaction when in line for coffee or passing each other in a drugstore.</p><p>But this one? This average-looking man with a briefcase staring a little helplessly at the wall of bouquets outside the bodega on the corner of 8th and 48th? The one with the gold ring glinting on his left hand?</p><p>This one, Whizzer realizes very quickly, is going to become a problem.</p><p>“Looking for anything in particular?” Whizzer asks him, surprising himself when the words leave his mouth. He really had been intending to stare a little and then keep walking. He sort of hopes the man doesn’t realize he’s referring to him -- that way he can slink away, no harm no foul. And then probably go home and hop on Grindr and find someone to wipe this rumpled-clothed man from his memory.</p><p>But alas, the man with the briefcase starts, turning over his left shoulder to stare at him.</p><p>“Uh,” he says, and Whizzer can’t help but want to chuckle at how thrown off he looks. “Do you work here?” </p><p>Whizzer looks down at his bomber jacket, amused. “Do I look like I work in a bodega?” </p><p>“Oh. Um. No, I guess you don’t.” The man offers him a little half-smile. “So are you a flower expert or something?” </p><p>“No, you just looked a little overwhelmed,” Whizzer says with a shrug. He’s starting to wonder why he broke the New Yorker’s code to keep your mouth shut and not bother other people. Damn this man. “I’m sure whoever you’re buying them for will love any of the flowers you pick out.” </p><p>Whizzer hedges his bets, just in case. It’s pretty likely that this man isn’t of his particular persuasion, based on the scuffed, ugly-ass sneakers he’s wearing. Also, again, <i>married</i>. But he waits, just to see what the man says. </p><p>He laughs, and the laugh is so warm and lights up the man’s eyes in a way that sort of feels like a gut-punch for Whizzer. <i>Damn it.</i> </p><p>“You’re likely right,” the man says, rubbing a hand over his chin. “I kind of haven’t been the best husband lately, you know? I just want to do right by my wife. Make it up to her a little bit.” </p><p><i>Wife</i>. Got it. </p><p>“What, working too much?” Whizzer asks, nodding towards the briefcase. </p><p>And to his surprise, the man’s face flushes and his head suddenly dips a little, almost like he can’t make eye contact. “Something like that,” he mumbles. </p><p><i>Oh.</i> Well, isn’t that interesting. </p><p>“Right,” Whizzer says, unsure what to follow that up with. It was weird -- he’d sort of assumed that closet cases weren’t really around anymore. Which was a dumb assumption on his part, he realizes. Just because things like gay marriage is legal now doesn’t mean everyone comes from a home where they feel safe coming out. But <i>marrying</i> your beard? He definitely thought that move died out in the 80s.</p><p>“So, uh,” the other man says, clearing his throat. He grabs at a bouquet of roses, holding them almost triumphantly. “You think she’ll like these? In your expert opinion?” He grins a little again and Whizzer feels his stomach twist. Damn this unavailable closet case of a man! </p><p>“In my expert floral opinion, they’re cliche as hell. Try this instead.” Whizzer reaches for a bouquet of pale pink lilies and hands them to the man. “They’re way less basic.” </p><p>The man’s grin widens. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to be basic.” </p><p>He steps towards the door of the bodega, presumably to go inside to pay, and Whizzer feels a little bowled over. Is this briefcase man flirting with him? Despite the ring on his finger and the fact that they’d been picking out flowers for his wife? Whizzer has known many a bold man in his day, but this one surprises him a little. There was something so unassuming about him when he first caught Whizzer’s eye. Who knew he’d turn out to be intriguing as hell? </p><p>Before Whizzer knows it, the man has paid and steps back out onto the sidewalk. He holds up the flowers and nods, moving closer to him again. “Thank you,” the man says, his smile now a little smaller but no less inviting. “You’ve probably completely saved my ass today.” </p><p>Whizzer has to bite back the innuendo that practically leaps off his tongue. “No problem. It’s my flower-ly duty.” A terrible joke, but the man laughs anyway. Whizzer feels his chest warm.</p><p>“I’m Marvin, by the way,” the man says, and it’s nice to be able to have a name to put with this unassuming face that Whizzer can’t stop staring at.</p><p>“Marvin,” he repeats, as if trying out the name on his tongue. “I’m Whizzer.” </p><p>“Whizzer? Seriously?” </p><p>Whizzer shrugs. “Sometimes nicknames really stick.” </p><p>Marvin chuckles, shrugging. “All right, Whizzer, if you say so.” A pause. “You live in the area?” </p><p>“Nah. Down on Christopher Street.” Their eyes meet again, this time in a moment of understanding. His heartbeat picks up.</p><p>“Too bad,” Marvin says. “Who will I go to the next time I have a flower emergency?” </p><p>He shouldn’t give him his number. It would be <i>wrong</i> to give him his number.</p><p>“I guess you’ll have to call me, then.” Oops. </p><p>He thinks maybe he’s being too bold -- it’s one thing to suggest bumping into each other in the area, and another thing entirely to offer a direct line of communication. One has a layer of plausible deniability that the other just doesn’t. Surely a married man would want to keep everything looking on the straight and narrow. </p><p>But then Marvin holds out his phone, and Whizzer types his number into it before he can stop himself. Double oops.</p><p>“Okay,” Marvin says, taking his phone back and tucking it into his pocket. “It was very nice to meet you, Whizzer.” </p><p>“You too, Marvin.” He really needs his heart to calm the hell down.</p><p>They pause for a moment, still looking at each other, as if neither wants to be the first to break away. But then Marvin does, taking a couple steps backward before turning and heading down 8th Avenue. He offers one last small smile before he goes. </p><p>Whizzer thinks the strength of his exhale could probably knock him right into the wall of flowers and he wouldn’t even care. </p><p>He doesn’t <i>mean</i> to start crushing on a married man. He knows it’s wrong. He knows it’s proper just to look, to daydream, but never to entertain it further than that. He’s better than that, after all. Just because he likes to sleep around and doesn’t want to be tied down doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to get involved in that whole mess. </p><p>But then he feels his phone vibrate. </p><p>An unknown number graces the screen, and he knows it’s Marvin. He can feel it before he even answers the call. </p><p>“Hi.” </p><p>“Just wanted to check to see if you gave me a fake number or not.” </p><p>“That’s creepy, you know.” Whizzer can’t help the smile that starts to grow on his lips. </p><p>“Is it? Damn. I thought I was doing so good at not being creepy.” He thinks he can hear Marvin smiling, too.</p><p>“Too bad, you totally failed.” </p><p>“I guess I did. Want to hang up on my creepy ass now?” </p><p>“No,” Whizzer says. </p><p>“Good. Me neither.” </p><p>And from there, Whizzer knows he’s done. He knows that they’ll keep talking, and start texting, and eventually meet up someplace where Marvin tells his wife that he’s working late and they can only be together for an hour before he has to get home to her. He knows they’ll do all sorts of wrong things that he’ll never want to admit to anyone because they’ll judge the hell out of him for it. He knows it’ll get confusing, and complicated, and likely hurt both of them in the long run. And he knows he’ll love every terrible, awful minute of it. </p><p>Damn this enticing, closet case of a man.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>the end.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Juletide, shudder! I hope you enjoy - it was lovely to get to write a little bit of Whizzer &amp; Marvin for you. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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